


Jane And Bernie Sanders's Excellent Adventure

by cuddyclothes



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: 2016 US Presidential Election, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Het, Hot Candidate's Wife Sex, I'm Sorry, Shameless Smut, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Totally Insane, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6728434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddyclothes/pseuds/cuddyclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a fight because Bernie Sanders, Democratic candidate for president, will not wear a tuxedo to the White House Correspondents Dinner, choosing a rumpled blue suit instead.</p><p>The following night, Bernie and Jane have a another fight.  Jane goes to the hotel bar to get drunk after Bernie locks himself in the bathroom.</p><p>Jane meets a tall, dark handsome man.  Bernie texts Susan Sarandon. Let the fun begin!</p><p>Chapters run from PG-13 to NC-17.</p><p>A/N Written on Twitter late at night<br/>A/N 2 I seriously need help</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**It starts the night of the White House Correspondents Dinner.  Jane discovers Bernie in his usual crumpled blue suit.**

 

_"Please,_ Bernie, wear the tux!"

"It’s got shirt studs in it!  And fancy cuff-links!  And a cummerbund!  I’m not wearing a cummerbund!  It squeezes too hard!"

"But Will Smith’s gonna be there.  I’ve always wanted to meet Will Smith.  And Rosario! You _love_ Rosario!  Bernie, I’ve got my nice dress that I wore to the Vermont Veteran’s Dinner.  I never get to dress up!!  You’d do it for Susan Sarandon."

"I never even _touched_ that woman!  I’m not wearing the tux.  It’s a statement against the big money corporate establishment!  Is the limo here yet?"

"Bernie, if you don’t wear a tux I’ll have to spend the next week doing all the news shows trying to convince them it was a political choice and _not because you think the pants are too tight_!  Bernie, the limo’s here."

"Does it have the Krug champagne?  And the lobster slider sandwiches?"

(Sigh) "Yes, dear."

"Good.  Tell the driver to park the limo around the corner. We can't have people seeing us get out of it."

 "Yes, dear."

 "And no red carpet. We’ve gotta keep the faith."

 

**The fight continues the next night, after Bernie returns from his exhausting round of events.**

  
  
Bernie sags into an armchair in their hotel suite.  "I'm glad that's over. What a drag."

"Was it a drag hanging with Susan Sarandon?"

" _Jesus_ , Jane, I never touched the woman."

"You'd like to, you horny old turd! You called me Rosario in bed last week!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Jane and Bernie bicker far into the night. When she taunts him about super-delegates, he locks himself in the bathroom.  
"I'm not coming out until you say I won in a landslide!" he yells.

Little does Bernie Sanders know the events he has set in motion...

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jane meets a tall, dark handsome stranger. And Bernie texts his most... _ardent_ fan.

Jane hears Bernie muttering, "I shoulda stayed with my first wife Deborah. She wouldn't give me crap about super-delegates."  
"SHUT UP ABOUT DEBORAH!"  
"DEBORAH TREATED ME WITH RESPECT!"  
"SHE ISN'T THE ONE WHO'LL _END UP CHANGING YOUR DIAPERS_ , OLD MAN!"  
"I'M NOT COMIN OUT OF THIS BATHROOM JANE!"  
"I'M GOING DOWNSTAIRS TO THE BAR, BERNIE! ENJOY YOURSELF IN THE BATHROOM!"  
" **I WILL**!"  
The hotel room bangs shut. Bernie tells himself, "I'm not comin' out...shit...I left my Iphone somewhere..."  
Bernie wanders around the hotel room, looking for his Iphone. Dammit, Jane could've found it if she hadn't gone downstairs to get loaded.

Jane sits in the hotel bar, nursing a bourbon and water. "Bernie thinks he's all that and a bag of organic rice chips," she thinks.  
A tall dark handsome man approaches Jane. "Haven't I seen you on tv?"  
Jane nods.  
"On Desperate Housewives? You _look_ like a celebrity."  
"Oh, my!" Jane bats her eyelashes. It's been so long since she's felt a man's tender caress. Bernie's pats on the shoulder don't cut it any more. Besides, all he thinks about is Susan Sarandon.

The man's eyes bore into hers. "You are a woman who has endured much loneliness."  
"You noticed, huh?" Jane whispers. She feels a strange warmth through her body, and it's not from the bourbon.  
"Are you staying here?" the man asks.  
"Depends on which way you're voting, big boy," she says, and is instantly amazed at her own daring.  
"My name is Bob," the man says. Bob. A strong, masculine name. Not like Bernie. Bob has a nice bod. Bob. Bod. It's the bourbon talking, Jane!

 

Meanwhile, Bernie has located his Iphone. He lies back on the bed and proceeds to text Susan Sarandon:  
HI ITS ME :) IM ALL ALONE. R U? IM THINKING ABT YOU.  
WATCHING GoT Susan texts back.  
Bernie grimaces. 2 hard 2 keep track of what's up on that stupid show! I miss Seventh Heaven.  
WHAT R U WEARING SU-SU  
BRA & PANTIES BERNIE U NASTY MAN  
OMG I LIKE THAT


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie texts Susan; Jane goes to Bob's hotel room.

JON SNOW IS ALIVE!!!  
WHO  
GOT!  
OH  
IS JANE THERE  
SHES GETTIN DRUNK AGAIN SHE DUZNT TREAT ME GOOD  
POOR BERNIE PUTTING UP W THAT WOMAN  
UR RIGHT  U WANT TO COME HERE  
I CANT PAPARAZZI  
COME ON SUSAN THEYL SAY ITS FUNDRASING TALK  
SU-SU WANTS TO UNCLE BERNIE

  
  
  
  
Bob leaned close to Jane. "I'm staying here alone, beautiful."  
She felt herself blush."Are you sure you don't know who I am?"  
"No, and I don't care. You've had experience. I'm not interested in skinny young girls. You're a real woman, Jane."  
"Goodness!"  
His brown eyes were dark in the low light of the bar.  
Bob tossed some change on the bar and took Jane's hand. "I'll have some champagne sent to my room." His eyes flicked up and down her figure. Jane thought of Bernie, sitting in the locked bathroom, and felt a pang of guilt. But wait a minute, the old goat kept putting her on television, making her his surrogate. Hell, let Susan Sarandon be his surrogate! To hell with Bernie Sanders! Eagerly, she followed Bob to the elevator.  
His suite was palatial. Not like the cheap crappy room they were in.  Jane was awed by the lush decorations, the flowers everywhere.  
Bob pressed a rose into her hand. "For you."  
Jane backed away, trembling, flicking her dull brown hair out of her face. "Wait! Are you a Republican? If so, I can go no farther!"  
Bob laughed, white teeth shining against his thick black beard. "A Republican! Never! I make my own rules! I _don't vote_!"  
"TAKE ME," Jane cried, overcome with lust. This god of a man didn't vote! He didn't _care_! She was free! **Free!**

  
  
Heart pounding, Bernie hurriedly undressed, changing into his best striped cotton pajamas, bedroom slippers and terrycloth robe. If only he had a pipe. As it was, he thought he cut quite a dashing figure. His hands shook. Not because he was nervous; they just shook. That's why he had to keep waving his hands around in public. Nobody would notice that way. Steady, Bernie, he cautioned himself. Don't look too eager. Bernie knew that he and Susan Sarandon were destined to be together. When he was POTUS, she would be the dazzling woman on his arm. He wouldn't let her walk around with her tits out,though. That made Susan look cheap, not elegant.  
  
In another part of the hotel, Jane Sanders moaned as Bob unbuttoned her JC Penney blouse. He kissed her collarbone. "Your skin is so pale," he said admiringly.  
"I live in Vermont," she gasped. "We don't get much sun. Bob, oh, _Bob_!" Never had she known a man could make her feel so vulnerable and yet powerful, so mild and yet wild, her pulsing womanhood wanting him yes, wanting him!  She lay back on the bed, in a trance, watching him unzip her skirt.  She kicked off her suede oxfords.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Bob, Bernie and Susan - what's going to happen?
> 
> (I seriously need help)

Bob peeled off his jacket to reveal a tight shirt & equally tight pair of pants. Jane watched as he undressed. His wide shoulders and slim waist were a hymn to manhood, his buttocks a song of virility, and most of all, the velvet sheath that proclaimed him male. Bob raised an eyebrow. "Have you never seen a man before?" He smiled again.  
"Not--not like you," Jane Sanders whispered. "Not even in grad school."  
He pressed his mouth on hers, his tongue thrusting into Jane's mouth as he unhooked her Playtex 24-hour bra. "Bob," she said into his hair.  
"Jane, you magnificent animal," he breathed. She lay naked beneath this unexpected gift of masculine beauty, waiting, trembling, letting herself surrender to whatever was to come next.

Meanwhile, Bernie heard a soft tap on the door. "Bernie? It's Su-su."  
"Su-su!" Bernie flung open the door. It was a bad idea, because he crumpled next to the door with a cry of pain and a string of oaths in Yiddish.  
"Baby, what's the matter?" Susan knelt, her eyes wide with concern.  
"My back is out," Bernie grunted. "Goddammit, all those rallies, standing on all those damn podiums!"  
Susan gingerly helped the presidential candidate up. He yelped but let her seat him in an armchair.  
"I'll run you a hot bath and phone down for some Epsom salts," Susan said. Despairingly, Bernie noted she was wearing a faux-fur mink coat over a sheer chiffon negligee. Damn the luck!

Bob carried Jane into the bedroom and dropped her down on the bed. "You have not been properly loved, I can tell." Jane was in an agony of lust. All thoughts of Bernie had flown from her mind. Bob's mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue thrusting, exploring--as Jane felt herself going hot and cold all over. And wet. She was so hot and wet for Bob, in a way she never had been for Bernie. Why had she deluded herself into thinking that the shared struggle of the proletariat was more important than passion? This was life, this was real, this man, this centaur thrusting himself into her! Jane's hips bucked up as he savagely pounded into her, growling like the animal he was. Frenzied, she bit his shoulder, drawing blood.

Meanwhile, Bernie soaked in a hot tub. Susan brought him a glass of milk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie's in the bath, Jane's on the bed.
> 
> Shenanigans ensue.

"Susan, get into the bath with me," he leered.  
"Now, now, Bernie, with your back out, you naughty man? Relax."  
"Dammit, Susan, I wanted some nooky! Now I'm in a damn bathtub with my damn back. Hillary did this! She makes me tense, and my back tenses up, and then I gotta sit here like a damn old coot! Hillary does not deserve to be president." He looked up into Susan's hazel orbs. "Tell me about my superdelegates."  
"Bernie," Susan Sarandon said in a husky whisper, "you have all the superdelegates. All. The. Superdelegates. Does that feel good?"  
"Yeah, that feels real good. _Little_ Bernie wants to hear about superdelegates." He grinned. Susan slipped her hand into the water. Her hand gripped his hard cock. Thank goodness he'd taken two Viagra.  
"Superdelegates," she whispered. " _All_ the superdelegates for Bernie "her hand moved faster, swirling the hot water. "Superdelegates superdelegates superdelegates superdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuperdelegatessuper--"  
"I AM THE DEMOCRATIC NOMINEE!" Bernie yelled as he came.  
"You are, baby, you are, everyone is voting for _you_." Susan Sarandon delicately dried off her hand with a hotel hand towel. Bernie turned his head to her.  
"I'm sleepy, Mommy."  
"Yes, Bernie?"  
"Bernie wants to sleep now."  
"Mommy will take you to bed, little boy." Susan rang downstairs for two strong bellhops.  
  
  
"Bob, I am your woman, I am yours," Jane sobbed as Bob continued to thrust.  
"I know, you sexy bobcat," he groaned, pushing himself in deeper. The feelings built up in Jane, her whole body _sang_ with heat, she was heat incarnate, **Jane Sanders** was heat! She would melt!  
  
Suddenly ecstasy slammed into her like a two-ton truck!  Jane shrieked with pleasure, her body twisting madly. Bob groaned and exploded inside her with two tremendous thrusts. "Jane, my Jane," he said, and collapsed on top of her. They lay, wrapped in bliss, together.  
  
It was almost dawn when Jane crept back into their hotel room. Bernie snored. He was lying on a heating pad. She slid in next to her sleeping husband in bed.  
  
Neither of them would ever speak of the White House Correspondents Dinner again.  
  


THE END

(Thank God)


End file.
